Rub The Wrong Way

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I frequently get emails from massage “professionals” inviting me to sample their wares, which only serves to reinforce my suspicions about how unsecured my online persona is.

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Today this one showed up and I have to say, even though he seems attractive, I would be reluctant to hire a body worker who occasionally takes it in his head to lie around in horse pastures.

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There is also this one, who advertises “Massage, Mud & Yoga.”

Whatever happened to happy endings?

10 responses »

  1. Body worker, is that what they’re calling themselves nowadays? I’d stay well away from the yoga man ‘mud’ we all know what that entails, the sort of goings-on enjoyed by foreign sex perverts on the internet.

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      • Tell your ‘friend’ to type ‘coprophagia’, ‘Pig sex’ or ‘glass top coffee table fun’ in his search engine and see what poops up, erm pops up.

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  2. A good massage is a wonderful thing. This sort of thing, however – dubious in the extreme. Remind me some time to tell you about the shocking goings-on once upon a time at the Cairo Four Seasons.

    “Bodyworker” always sounds to me like the title of a long-forgotten dance song, possibly from Miquel Brown or the like, of the sort that we always referred to as DFS – “Disco Fag Shit.” We made fun of those songs, but they always got us dancing.

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  3. I get a good massage once a season for years. Nothing like it. Never had a happy ending till last year. I was in Asbury Park at a boutique hotel, who also had a spa. A legit spa. Imagine my surprise when the massage was done, the guy says Can I take care of this? Never happened before this, who was I to argue?

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